


Better Than Milk and Cookies

by SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Christmas, Crack, Fluff, Kid Derek, M/M, kid stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: Stiles met Derek every Christmas since he was a child. He just doesn’t remember.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> [ChloeWeird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird): Hey, are you gonna write a Christmas fic?  
> Me: Oh, no, probably not.  
> Also, me: So, werewolves as Santa, can you dig it?
> 
>  
> 
> Age Difference:??? Is Derek canon age? Is he two years older than Stiles? Is he magically age resistant and already 100? You decide! Seriously though I don’t really talk about it but I think he might be about two years older than Stiles.

*******

The fireplace crackled and popped as it burned brightly, illuminating the mismatched ornaments on the tree. Stiles smiled as he drank his hot chocolate, cuddled into the couch with a snowman covered blanket and reindeer pajama pants. Scott shared the blanket in his own matching pants, while Melissa and the Sheriff each took an armchair.

Sharing Christmas with his best friend and his mother at college age might not be considered normal, but Stiles had spent part of every Christmas since his mom died with the McCalls. Melissa and the Sheriff tried to coordinate their shifts so that at least one of them would be with the boys on all the major days of the season. The house and the timing changed year to year, but some traditions held fast. Hot chocolate in matching pajamas on Christmas Eve was one of the lasting ones.

After his first semester away from home for college, these traditions felt more important than ever. Melissa had to work in the morning, and his dad would be gone soon after that for his evening shift, but for tonight, they’d had the rare pleasure of having all four of them together.

“Well,” Dad said, setting his mug aside. “You boys better head up to bed before Santa Claus gets here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes while Scott chuckled. “Dad, really?”

His father just blinked at him. “Don’t forget to leave your snack out.”

Stiles shook his head, but he got up and went to the kitchen. Just like PJs and melting marshmallows, leaving Old St. Nick a snack was a tradition of Stiles', but unlike most people, Stiles didn’t leave milk and cookies. Or even eggnog. Instead, Stiles set out strawberries, kiwis, and gatorade. He wasn’t even sure why, only that he’d started doing it as a child and never stopped.

He sat the plate and bottle on the end table next to the tree. His dad tried to snag a strawberry like he did every year, but Stiles slapped his hand away. “Good night, Dad,” he said pointedly.

“Merry Christmas, Stiles,” the Sheriff said, hugging him. 

Scott and Stiles made their way up the stairs, and Stiles admired the garland wrapped around the railing. He hadn’t been home in time to decorate, but his dad had done pretty well without him. They went into Stiles bedroom, and Scott flopped down onto the air mattress they’d already set up.

“Good night, Stiles, merry Christmas,” Scott mumbled into the pillow.

“You too, Scott,” Stiles said, crawling into his own bed. Usually, he’d mess around on his phone for a while until he fell asleep, but not for Christmas. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the house settling instead. When he was younger, he liked to imagine that he could hear sleigh bells and reindeer as he fell asleep. Now, he drifted off to the sound of Scott’s even breathing beside him.

***

Normally, Stiles woke up on Christmas morning buzzing with excitement and anticipation. This year, he woke up to so much pain in his head he fell out of bed onto the floor next to Scott’s air mattress. He could hear Scott shouting his name before his mind was overtaken. Sounds and sights bombarded him, and he could barely make sense of all the things he saw. He stopped trying and let it all come as something pushed forward in vivid clarity.

***

The steps creaked as Stiles crept down them, and he winced at every noise. He knew he was supposed to be in bed, he’d been told that Santa wouldn’t come if he wasn’t asleep, but he’d woken up and heard a noise downstairs, and he was halfway out of his room before he even remembered his mother’s warnings. His curiosity burned too brightly to go back to bed now.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to see, but a small figure struggling to pull something out of their fireplace was not it. “Are you an elf?”

The figure jolted, dropping the thing he was trying to drag out and spinning around. “You’re supposed to be in bed,” he growled. 

Stiles gasped at the sight of sharp fangs, a heavy brow, and pointed ears peeking out from a green hat. “You _are_ an elf!” He reached out to touch the ears, but his hand was pushed away.

“No, I’m not,” the elf sputtered. “And-- and-- you’ll go on the naughty list if you don’t go back to bed.”

Stiles stopped cold. He could feel his lip start to tremble and his eyes well up. “Mom said I was on the nice list because I tried really hard.” 

The not-elf reached out, then abandoned the motion before he made contact. “I know. I just meant-- I won’t move you to the naughty list okay, Stiles? Please stop.”

“You know my name?” Stiles swiped at his nose.

“Obviously,” he said smugly. “I’m a Claus.” He straightened proudly and recited, “2450 Whiteley-Hossper Avenue, Beacon Hills, California, home of John and Claudia Stilinski. One child, son, age six, answers to the name of 'Stiles'”

“Wow,” Stiles said. “Are you Santa Claus?”

“We’re all Santa Claus,” he said cryptically. At Stiles’ confused look he said. “Derek. I go by Derek.” His features were melting into something that looked more like a regular boy like Stiles. No more pointed ears or teeth.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, gesturing to the forgotten object lying half in their fireplace.

“Oh!” Derek said, and turned to resume struggling with it. “Your dad forgot to get your mom an easel this year.”

“She wants one really bad,” Stiles said, stepping forward to help Derek.

“Yeah, and they’re both on the nice list, so we came to help them out,” Derek explained.

“We?”

“I’m helping my mom,” Derek said. “I’m not old enough to go by myself, but another family is taking longer than expected, and we have to stay on schedule, so Mom sent me down on my own.”

“Wow,” Stiles said. His parents talked to him a lot about responsibility, but they would never think he was ready for something like this. “What if you mess it up?”

Derek frowned at him. “I kind of did already. You’re not supposed to be awake.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

“Maybe?” Derek said, but he didn’t look very concerned. “Laura will help.”

“Laura?” Together they managed to pull the boxed up easel under the tree. Derek pulled a bow from his pocket and haphazardly slapped it on top.

“My sister,” Derek said, with an earnest smile. “She’s older than me so she knows _everything_ about Christmas.”

“Everything?” Stiles said suspiciously.

“That’s what she says.” Derek's whole body drooped. “I don’t think I’ll ever remember as much as her.”

“You remembered our address,” Stiles said. “It’s a really hard one, so if you can remember that, you must have a good memory.”

“Maybe,” Derek said morosely.

Stiles shifted awkwardly, looking down at his red and white snowflake footie pajamas. He wasn’t good at making people feel better. He tried his best, but whatever he said just made it worse. “Do you want some cookies and milk?” He asked gesturing to the plate he and his mom had put out. One of the cookies was already missing, but Stiles was sure it had been eaten by his dad when he got home from the station.

Derek sighed. “Not really.”

Disappointed that he still wasn’t helping, Stiles said, “I thought Santa liked cookies.”

“I’m not exactly Santa,” Derek said, “And I do like cookies. But I’ve already been to so many houses, and I’ve eaten so many cookies I just…”

Stiles nodded vigorously. “Feel like you’re going to get scurvy if you don’t eat something clean and fruity?”

“Scurvy?” Derek echoed with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “My mom says it all the time when we eat lots of junk food.” He tugged open the fridge until he found a bottle of Gatorade and a container of cut up strawberries and kiwis. “How about these?”

“Okay,” Derek said, accepting the fruit. Stiles sat and talked with him while he ate. Stiles wasn’t very good at telling time yet, but it must have been a while that they sat there because he felt like Derek was his best friend.

The thumping of hooves sounded about them and Derek frowned. “That’s my mom.”

“You have to leave?” Stiles said. He wasn’t finished talking to Derek yet.

“We have other houses to help.”

“But I don’t want you to go.” 

Derek started chewing on his claw. “Maybe you could come with me. So I can ask Laura what to do now that you’ve seen me.”

“Okay,” Stiles said. 

“Hmm,” Derek said. “We can’t let Mom find out though.” Derek considered him a moment, then his face lit up. He plucked the green hat off of his head and put it on Stiles. “That will make you less noticeable. Just follow me, and try to stay hidden.”

They went back to the fireplace, and Derek opened a small bag tied to his belt. With a dash of powder in the fire, and a sneeze, they were whisked up to the roof. Stiles barely had time to take in the sleigh before Derek was rushing him into the back of it, hiding him under presents and bags.

A loud female voice called.“How did it go?” 

“Fine,” Derek said, grabbing another hat from beside Stiles and disappearing from view.

“Just a couple more stops and then I’ll take you home for a break.”

“I’m okay,” Derek said quickly.

“I know, but you have to pace yourself. We need to check in for any changes anyway,” she told him. “If you decide you’re still up for it, you can come out with me again.”

Stiles couldn’t hear Derek’s reply over the clatter of hooves on shingles and the rush of wind as they launched into the air. The steady climb made him dizzy, but when they evened out he opened his eyes again. Beacon Hills glittered beneath him. It was too warm to have more than frost covering the trees, but Christmas lights more than made up for a green Christmas.

The farther out of town they got, the fewer lights there were, but Stiles recognized the Christmas tree farm they went to every year to cut down their tree, and Mrs. Riddell’s house that his mom liked to visit.

They stopped at three more houses, one with a metal rooster on the roof, another with a windmill in the yard. The third had a pack of dogs that started to bark as they touched down, but with one word from Derek’s mom, they went quiet.

After that, they flew over a forest. The trees grew denser as they went, and the lines of road cutting through them decreased. Stiles was starting to drift off when the sleigh descended.

Stiles didn’t get to see much more than bright Christmas lights on the buildings huddled around the clearing before they pulled into a barn.

“You’re running late.”

“Peter, I am never late,” Derek’s mom said. “And if I am, it’s because I ran into trouble.”

Stiles tensed and ducked down further into the sleigh. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” she said, and Derek gave a loud, short laugh. “I’ll tell you in the office. Derek, go rest for a while.”

“Okay, Mom,” Derek said. The sound of boots tapping echoed across the floor. A few beats after they went silent, Derek appeared and helped Stiles out of the sleigh.

“You have a nice house,” Stiles said, staring around the large room filled with sleighs piled high with gifts.

“This isn’t our house, it’s the depot,” Derek said. “Let’s go find Laura.”

Derek pulled Stiles along one hallway and then another, as Stiles craned his neck to look at all the decorations lining the walls. They passed one door, then Derek jerked to a halt and backtracked. “Laura?”

“Yeah?”

Derek sighed in relief and raced into the room. “I need your help.”

Laura looked a lot like Derek but with long hair running out from under her hat. Stiles had expected her to be older, but she didn’t seem that much more so than Derek. They were both older than Stiles, though, so she must be smarter.

Laura took one look at Stiles and her eyes went wide as saucers. “Who is that?”

“Stiles,” Derek said. “He saw me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you brought him home?” Laura said shrilly.

Derek frowned at her. “You said you know everything about Christmas, and you’d help me since this is my first one out on the sleighs. So, help.”

“I don’t-- I can’t--” Laura sputtered, then shouted, “Mom!”

“What? No, don’t tell her!” Derek said, as his sister ran to the door. “Laura, come back, you’ll get me in trouble.”

“You brought a human to the California North Pole, you’re already in trouble,” she tossed over her shoulder and disappeared, shouting for their mother.

“Oh no,” Derek said. His eyes were glowing blue and his ears were pointed again. “Oh no, oh no.”

Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s wrist and pulled him deeper into the room. He dashed through the shelves, barely looking at what was on them until he came across a large table, covered in a cheerful festive tablecloth. They dived under it and sat huddled together, both shaking.

“They’re in here, mom,” Laura said from the door.

“Derek?” She called. “Baby, where are you?”

Derek whimpered next to Stiles, so Stiles took his hand and squeezed it tight. He was starting to wish he’d just gone back to bed.

They tried their best to be quiet, but Derek’s mom found them easily. She lifted the tablecloth and looked down at them. “Oh, honey.”

“I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry,” Derek said, abandoning Stiles to launch himself in his mother's arms. 

Derek’s mom gripped him tight, rubbing circles on his back. “Derek, why didn’t you tell me when we were at his house?”

“I wanted to fixed it myself,” Derek said. “Laura said you’re too busy to do everyone else’s job for them when you’ve got your own to do.”

“Laura likes to listen to me at our most stressful time of year and echos what I say without knowing the context,” Talia said. “We work as a team, Derek, you can always ask for help.”

“Okay,” Derek mumbled into his mother’s shoulder.

“Would you like some help now?” She asked. Derek nodded silently, so she turned her attention to Stiles. “Stilinski, right?”

Stiles swallowed thickly. “Please don’t put me on the naughty list.”

She laughed. “It’s alright, Stiles. We know how curious you are.” She stood up, taking Derek’s hand and offering one to Stiles. “We’d better get you home before your parents wake up.”

Stiles liked riding in the front of the sleigh even better than the back. Derek’s mom introduced herself as Talia, and told them Christmas stories until they got back home. They passed over the same three houses, first the one with the dogs, then the windmill, then the metal rooster. He pointed out the Christmas tree farm to Derek, and watched as Beacon Hills sparkled into view. 

By the time they reached Stiles’ house, Derek wasn’t upset anymore, and Stiles was content but tired. Talia tucked him into bed, and Derek gave him a hug goodbye. “When will I see you again?” Stiles asked.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Talia said. “But you won’t remember any of this.”

“I won’t remember Derek?” Stiles said. 

“Not unless you see him again.” She took out a small box like the one Stiles' grandfather kept his snuff in. Before Stiles could protest that he and Derek were friends, she took a pinch of dust from inside and blow it into his face. 

“Goodbye, Stiles,” he heard as sleep claimed him. 

***

Stiles snuck down the stairs shivering with excitement. He was certain he’d heard a noise downstairs, and it was Christmas, which could only mean... “Santa?”

A figure turned away from the Christmas tree. “You’re supposed to be sleeping!”

Stiles' head felt funny. “Derek?” he said, and memories of last year filtered in. Stiles smiled. “I left you strawberries."

Derek tried to glare at him, but Stiles could see the smile breaking through. “It was a nice change from cookies,” he said begrudgingly.

***

There were no cheerful lights to guide Stiles down the stairs. In fact, there were no lights at all. Not on the stairs, or in the living room, or on the front of the house. There weren’t even lights on the Christmas tree. The tree itself had come from the lot in town, not the farm they always went to.

Stiles used his flashlight to light his way instead. He’d been reading his book under the covers when he’d heard the noise downstairs, and it was still clutched in his hand.

“Dad?” Stiles called. He thought his dad had gone to bed, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d found him asleep on the couch with an empty bottle in this hand. “Dad, are you down here?”

“You have ears like a bat.”

Stiles spun toward the front door. His head started to spin. “Derek?”

“Come outside,” Derek said. “I got you a present.”

Stiles shoved his feet into his boots and ran after him. As soon as he stepped outside, he gasped.

“The lights!” Stiles said. “It’s the lights from Mom's book!” Stiles hugged the book to his chest. The story was about a boy who got lost, and the Northern lights that lead him home. His mom had read it to him every year. Except this one.

“Merry Christmas, Stiles,” Derek said.

***

Baseball bat in hand, Stiles crept down the stairs slowly. He could have been asleep hours ago, but he’d gotten caught up playing Call of Duty, and suddenly it was 3AM and there were noises coming from downstairs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stiles said. “You dress up as Santa to rob people's houses on Christmas Eve?”

“Technically, it’s Christmas now, and this outfit is warm, okay?” Santa-Robber said.

Stiles frowned. “Wait. I know you.”

“Do you ever sleep through the night?” Derek asked. 

Stiles grinned. “Not really.”

Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to the stockings on the fireplace.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked.

“Filling your stockings,” Derek said with a roll of his eyes to suggest _duh,_ then muttered, “With coal.”

“Coal?” Stiles sputtered, then he smiled. “Why? Do you think I’m naughty?” He laughed as Derek’s ears turned red.

“That is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t know, I think i could do worse,” Stiles said. “Can I take a picture of you?” Alarm showed on Derek’s face and Stiles quickly said, “so I can show Santa exactly what I want for Christmas.”

Derek snorted. “You’re right. That was terrible.”

Stiles grabbed a candy cane off his tree and offered it to Derek. “Even Santa doesn’t make candy as sweet as you.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but he took the candy cane, and Stiles could see him fighting a smile.

“You know, I can tell you're quite the elf-a male.” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows and Derek burst out laughing.

“Stop,” he panted. “You’ll wake up Scott.”

“I’m not the one ho ho hoing here,” Stiles said, but he acquiesced. “How was your year?”

They caught up on the events of the past year while Derek finished filling the stockings and adding some last minute gifts. When he was ready to leave, Stiles caught his wrist. “Not so fast.” Derek raised an eyebrow, and Stiles pointed above him. “Mistletoe.”

Derek glared up at the sprig. “Why would somebody put mistletoe up there?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Stiles said, and it had. In fact, it was looking like a great idea now. “Let me help you with that.”

“What?” Derek said, stumbling back a step. The back of his knees hit the couch, and one nudge from Stiles had him sitting down.

“I could even sit on your lap,” Stiles said, straddling him.

“That’s not-- I’m not--” Derek sputtered. “Stiles, you’re sixteen.”

Stiles stopped. “If you don’t want to do this, I’ll back off.”

“I do, I just…” Derek stopped. “Maybe just one kiss couldn’t hurt.”

“Sure,” Stiles said.

There was a lot more than one kiss, but Stiles still didn’t think it could hurt. In the morning, he couldn’t think of it at all.

*** 

Stiles panted on the floor as snippets of conversations, flashes of smiles, and the sensation of rubbing noses washed over him. “Derek?”

“Stiles, are you alright?” Scott said over him. “Stiles say something.”

“Where’s…” Stiles sat up. “He’s not here.”

“Who’s not here?” Scott asked, starting to check Stiles for injuries.

“I’m not supposed to remember him unless I see him,” Stiles mumbled.

“See who?” Scott asked.

“Derek,” Stiles said. “He comes every year.”

Scott frowned down at him. “Let’s go find Mom, okay?”

Stiles rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. After shaking his head to clear it, he could see how what he'd said would sound very strange to Scott. He felt certain that Derek was real, but what if it was only a vivid dream? Or worse, the beginning of the awful decline his mom had experienced.

Scott stuck close to him as they went down the stairs, concern showing in his every movement. Melissa and the Sheriff were standing in the living room, speaking in hushed voices as they watched the screen.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked.

His dad looked up at him and frowned. “Do you boys...remember anything?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

The Sheriff was at a loss, so Melissa asked, “Something that might have happened on a Christmas that you didn’t remember, but you remember today?”

Scott shook his head, but Stiles said, “Yes. So much that it’s all blurring together.” Melissa and his Dad exchanged looks. “What’s going on?”

The Sheriff looked at the TV where a reporter was interviewing people off the street.

“This is insane,” said a burly man. “They’ve been breaking into our houses for years. They could have done anything and we couldn’t remember.”

The clip changed to a woman with a young boy at her side. “They got me home in time for Christmas three years ago. I’d been on active duty, and we told the boys I’d be there because I got a flight, but a storm hit, and the flight got delayed. I thought it was a cargo plane, but I remember now. It was a man with a sleigh, reindeer and everything.” She looked down at her son with tears in her eyes. “They gave me Christmas with my boys.”

The next clip was with a woman with sharp piercing eyes. “These are predators. We can’t just let them run around freely like this.”

“All of the reports so far say they’ve been helping people. Bringing gifts, keeping people safe, bringing them home for the holidays,” the reporter pointed out. “You don’t think that shows that they have good intentions?”

“I don’t care what their intentions are. They’re monsters,” the woman insisted. “They need to be stopped.”

“Bullshit,” Stiles said. He’d seen Derek’s claws. He’d also seen how careful he was with them.

“There have been riots in some of the big cities,” the Sheriff said. “I’m going to have to go into the station, see what we can do for damage control.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Scott said. “What are they talking about?”

Neither the Sheriff nor Melissa seemed to know how to explain, so Stiles stepped in. “Santa Claus is real, except that it’s a mistranslation. It’s not ‘Claus’, it’s ‘claws.’ There are people all over the world with special abilities, and every Christmas they go out to help people and make the unbelievable happen. They have been for centuries. This idea of a fat man in a suit became popular, but they’re not like that. They’re just...people. Strong, fast, generous people.

Scott blinked at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Stiles said. “They have this powder they use to stop people from remembering. Derek had to use it on me almost every year.”

Scott crossed his arms. “Christmas miracles? Like, they bring gifts to all the good little boys and girls?”

“Sometimes,” Stiles said. “If that’s what’s needed.”

“How did none of the parents notice when something showed up that they didn’t buy?” Scott asked.

The Sheriff shrugged. “When Claudia was alive, she bought things I didn’t know about. Then when she was gone, if something showed up for Stiles, I assumed Melissa had put it there.”

Melissa frowned. “You know I honestly never thought about it. It think I just assumed that I’d forgotten I bought it.”

Scott gaped at them.“So everyone just ignored it, is that what you’re saying?”

“Magic,” Stiles said. “I think they had something, like the dust but bigger, that made people just accept it and move on.”

“So, why is everyone suddenly upset now?” Scott asked. “What’s changed?”

“I don't know, but I need to get to work,” Melissa said. She was already in her scrubs, so she went to grab her coat.

“I should go in as well,” The Sheriff said apologetically. “You boys will be okay, won’t you?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Stiles assured him. “We’ll worry about Christmas when everything is calmed down.”

The Sheriff gave Stiles a quick hug, ruffled Scott’s hair then headed out the door.

It took less than thirty seconds before Stiles said, “Well, I’m going to the north pole.”

“What?” Scott said. “Are you crazy?”

“It’s not that far,” Stiles said, then he ran up to his room to change with Scott close behind him.

“It’s in the Arctic Circle,” Scott said. “We live in California. Excuse me if my geography is off, but I think that’s pretty damn far.”

Stiles laughed. “That would be kind of crazy, but I think there's more than one.”

“What?” Scott said, flatly.

“Derek always calls it the California North Pole,” Stiles said. “Implying there’s other locations, other places.” He had a vague memory of looking at a globe dotted with shining blue held in Derek’s hands while Derek explained, _“These are all the Christmas families. They’re spread all over so that we can help as many people as possible in one night. The Hales have always looked after California.”_

“California is still a pretty big state,” Scott pointed out.

“It’s not that far. At least I don't think it is,” Stiles said. It felt like he’d made the trip yesterday, but it'd really been years. Perhaps his sense of time had been skewed by youth. Stiles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Something must have happened. I need to find him.”

Scott sighed and grabbed his overnight bag. “Fine then.”

“Fine what?” Stiles said, grabbing a plaid over shirt.

“If you insist, we’ll go,” Scott elaborated.

Stiles stopped. “Scott, you don’t have to go with me.”

Scott snorted. “As if I’d let you go by yourself. No way, bro, if you’re going, I’m going.”

Stiles launched himself at Scott and hugged him. “Merry Chri--”

“No, ew, don’t go all Hallmark moment on me,” Scott said pushing him off.

*** 

It was easy enough to pick the right direction to head out of town. There were still signs leading them out to the Christmas tree farm, so they followed those for awhile. 

Stiles triumphantly pointed out the metal rooster on the roof when they passed the first house they’d stopped at on that christmas long ago. The windmill on the second house still stood proudly to guide them. Stiles was less sure about the house with the dogs, until he saw the mailbox. It was painted like a dog, with a face and even a cute little tail on the end. Stiles slowed the jeep as they passed, and sure enough, barking ensued.

“So, this Derek,” Scott asked, along the way. “How did you meet him again?”

Stiles told him all about his meetings with Derek over the years, then stuttered to a halt when he reached the Christmas when he was 16.

Scott looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Stiles, are we driving to the North Pole for a booty call?”

“No!” Stiles said. “We are driving to the North Pole to make sure that my best friend slash occasional make out buddy and his family are okay.”

“Best friend, huh?"

“Besides you, of course,” Stiles said quickly.

“We’re family,” Scott said with an easy shrug.

The farther north they got, the more it snowed. “This might not have been the best choice of vehicle,” Stiles said as he cranked the heat. He wasn’t used to driving in the snow, so his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The road forked, and the pavement was suddenly gone, leaving them to rattle along surrounded by trees.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”Scott asked.

“It must be,” Stiles said. “It was straight north.”

Scott clung to the door as a gust of wind blew more snow at them. “Stiles, we’ve been driving for hours.”

“Yeah, well, I’m assuming magic sleighs pulled by reindeer go faster than my jeep can,” Stiles said irritably. 

“I’m only saying--Shit!”

In retrospect, Stiles thought the way the jeep glided into the ditch was rather graceful. It didn’t make them any less stuck though.

“You know what, this is fine,” Stiles said, hopping out of the car.

“Fine?” Scott echoed, getting out with him.

“Well, not great, because we’re probably stuck,” Stiles admitted. “But the roads disappear the closer you get anyway. We would have had to get out and walk at some point.”

“Walk?” Scott said. “Or we could get back in the car and call a tow truck.”

“It’s not far,” Stiles promised, though he really wasn’t sure, and by the look on Scott’s face, he knew it too. “Look, we’ll just walk for a while and if we don’t find it, we’ll come right back here.”

Scott sighed. “Fine. But the second we’re at risk of hypothermia, I’m dragging you to the jeep.”

Determined as he was, Stiles managed to get pretty far into the trees. But he had to admit, he couldn’t feel his toes properly and he was no more sure of their location then he’d been at the car.

“Stiles,” Scott started.

“Okay, fine, we’ll turn back,” Stiles said, feeling disappointed and defeated. How the hell was he going to get to Derek now?

Scott grabbed his arm. “No, Stiles, we’re--”

“Stop where you are.”

Stiles turned around. A group of extremely short people in Christmas hats and plush green coats stood around them. Their ears were so pointed, some of them flopped over, and their rose cheek’s bracketed noses that were either button cute, or long and hooked. “Holy shit, you’re an elf.”

*** 

All in all, it was probably for the best that they were escorted not only to the clearing that held the north pole but into the workshop where everyone was gathered. However, Stiles really could have done without the guns the group of elves were pointing at them.

The elves prodded them past the workbenches, up the stairs to a large office that was filled with people. By their resemblance, Stiles was willing to bet they were Derek’s family.

“What the hell is this?” Laura said, claws sprouting.

“We found these two skulking around in the woods.”

“We weren’t skulking,” Stiles said defensively. “Just shivering.”

“Stiles?” Derek pushed past his sister. “How did you get here?”

“I drove,” Stiles said. “Do you think you could maybe get your elves to stop pointing their guns at me?”

“They’re kind of waist level,” Scott mumbled.

Derek glared down at the elves. “Where did you even get those?”

“You remember when we considered carrying those BB guns? And then a couple hours later Talia decided it wasn’t our style?” asked one of the elves. “Well, by then we’d already made three dozen.”

“They’re airguns!” Scott burst out laughing and pointed at Stiles. “Some sheriff’s son you are.”

Stiles crossed his arms. “How was I supposed to--”

“How did they find this place anyway?” asked one of the Hales.

“If they managed to get here, others won’t be far behind,” said another. “Those riots could be on our doorstep at any moment.”

Everyone started talking over each other, growls interspersed with raised voices. Stiles and Scott exchanged panicked looks.

“If we could please focus on the matter at hand?” 

Everyone went silent and turned to Talia, who was holding court at a large desk in the centre of the room. 

“Thank you," she said. "Now, Stiles, how did you find us?”

Stiles shrugged. “When I woke up this morning, I remembered everything. The memory that stood out most was the first time I met Derek. It was easy enough to trace back the houses we visited.” 

“Yeah, then you ditched the jeep and we got lost in the woods,” Scott said.

“We weren’t lost,” Stiles argued, face heating.

“Well, we didn’t know where we were, and we sure did get found,” Scott countered, eyeing the elves.

“And if the elves hadn’t brought you here?” Talia said with a raised brow.

Stiles sighed. “We probably would have turned around soon.”

“I see,” Talia said, then turned to her pointy-eared followers. “I think it would be best if you focused your efforts on surveillance until we can get this sorted out.”

The elves muttered their apologies and filed from the room.

“That still won’t solve the problem at hand,” Laura said.

Stiles jumped as a bright red old-fashioned phone on Talia’s desk started to ring. “That will be the other poles,” she said. “Peter, stay with me. The rest of you, go keep yourself busy until I call for you.”

The group didn’t seem pleased, but they began filing out of the room, grumbling.

“Derek,” Talia added. “You can keep track of our unexpected visitors.”

With a stiff nod to his mother, Derek led Stiles and Scott from the room.

“What are you going to do with them?” asked a girl around Stiles’ age from Laura’s elbow.

“Keep track, Cora,” Derek growled.

“How?” Laura said. “There's too much to get into and mess with in here, and everybody knows these two are magnets for trouble.”

“Hey,” Scott said, indignant.

“Excuse you,” Stiles said, then smiled and added. “So, do you know everything about Christmas yet?”

Laura huffed, but Derek laughed.

“What?” Cora said.

The beginnings of a smile graced Laura’s lips, and she wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders. “Follow me, my dear sister, and I’ll tell you a tale about Derek and the year he brought a human home in his pocket.”

“Wait,” Scott said. “I wanna hear that story.” He rushed after them, leaving Stiles and Derek standing together.

“So,” Stiles drawled.

“So,” Derek said. His hands clenched nervously. “Here, I’ll show you the workshop.” 

Derek tugged Stiles down the stairs, and they whiled away some time playing, _What’s that? What’s it do? Why?_

“So, what happened?” Stiles asked as he inspected a toy train that was part-way finished.

“Hmm?” Derek reached out and spun the wheels.

“Why did everyone suddenly remember?” Stiles clarified. “What changed?”

Derek frowned down at the train. “There are people who already know about us. They don’t agree with what we do, with what we are, and they’ve been trying to stop us. A few years ago, one almost managed to get in here. She lit the place on fire, but Peter stopped her.”

“This place?” Stiles looked around at the walls searching for signs of the damage.

“Yes,” Derek said. “Of course, the elves fixed it within a few days, but it still shook us up.”

“No kidding.” He put an arm around Derek’s waist, hoping it was comforting. “That kind of thing leaves an impact.”

Derek nodded. “Some of my family was stuck inside. They wouldn’t leave, because they didn’t want to leave the antler. I don’t know what I would have done if we hadn’t gotten them out safely.”

Stiles tugged Derek closer for a proper hug. “Wait, the antler?”

“Mmmh,” Derek said nuzzling into Stiles neck. “Why do you always smell like clementines?”

“I eat them a lot this time of year,” Stiles said, waving him off. “Antler, Derek, what antler?”

“The antler,” Derek said, like it was obvious. Stiles made a face at him, so he elaborated. “Every Pole has an antler. They’re magic, of course. They keep people from realizing when something appears that wasn’t there before, or make them forget details that would lead them to us. They also power the antler dust we use on nosy people like you to make them forget.”

“Something happened to them,” Stiles said.

Derek nodded. “Every Pole has one to spread the magic around, and so that if one of them is damaged, the others will cover for it. But last night, multiple attacks were launched against the Poles. The remaining antlers couldn’t hold up.”

Stiles picked up the forgotten train as he considered. “Why did you have them in the first place?”

“What do you mean?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Why did it have to be a secret?”

Derek tapped his claws on the work table. “As a Christmas family, we try to believe in the good of mankind. It’s the foundation of what we do here. However--”

“There's a reason the myth of the Naughty and Nice lists formed. Not everyone is nice.” Peter was leaning over the railing above them.

“We have the ability to make extraordinary things happen,” Derek said. “We chose to use that to spread happiness, and bring people together.”

“There are those that would have us use it for their own gain.” Peter grinned coldly. “But they won’t succeed today. Derek, take Stiles up to your mother, I’ll go collect Scott.”

Derek and Stiles hurried back to Talia’s office. Scott, and Derek’s sisters weren't far behind them.

Instead of sitting at her desk, Talia stood in front of an opened glass cabinet, touching the large antler stored there. 

“We’ve found a way to reactivate the spell,” Talia said. “Soon this will all be put right.”

Stiles heart sank. “If the antlers start working again, I’ll forget Derek, won’t I?” 

“Yes,” Talia said. “I’m sorry, but this is for the best. The world can barely handle the differences they know of now. They’re not ready for people with different abilities like us.”

Stiles looked at Derek, and saw his own sadness reflected in his face. “I can’t risk my whole family just because I want more time with you.”

“I know,” Stiles said, and kissed him goodbye. “I’ll see you next year.”

Scott gave Stiles shoulder a reassuring squeeze as the antler began to glow under Talia’s hands. It started at the base and spread through its branches until the whole rack was illuminated. Then, slowly, it faded once again. Stiles expected that any moment Talia would turn to him, blow her magic dust, then he’d blink and be back in his house celebrating with his family.

But he wasn’t. He was still standing with Derek, in the workshop of the California North Pole.

“Now what?” He asked. “Are you gonna dust me here or back home?”

“Stiles,” Talia said. “I have known you all your life. And despite what others might say, I know you can keep a secret when it’s important enough.” She closed the cabinet doors and looked up the antler. “You clearly understand the importance of our families secrecy. I think it’s time we expanded again.”

“Really?” Derek said, staring awestruck at his mother.

“Unless you’d rather someone else?” Talia said, with a quirk of her brow. Derek shook his head quickly. “That’s what I thought. Don’t linger, though. Stiles’ father will be getting home soon, and his jeep is still stuck.” She swept from the room without a backward glance.

“Wait, so I don’t have to forget?” Stiles said, staring after her.

“Would you like to go out with me?” Derek said.

“Yes,” Stiles said automatically. “Of course.”

Derek smiled. “Then you don’t have to forget.” He cupped Stiles face and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

Scott cleared his throat. “So, do I have to date you too, or am I still going to forget this happened.”

Derek blinked at him. “Shit. Umm…” He sighed and walked to the door. “Mom! Laura!”

***

Stiles stepped quietly down the stairs, avoiding the lights circling the banister, careful not to wake anyone else when it was still so early. He should be in bed, catching a few more hours of sleep, not up with the sun, but he had thought he’d heard something downstairs.

He walked into the livingroom and recognized the figure there immediately. “You’re back early.”

Derek smiled at him. “Couldn’t wait.” He bit into a strawberry as Stiles rushed over. “I was hoping I’d finish before you woke up.”

Stiles snorted. “Not this year.”

“Maybe next year then,” Derek said. Stiles didn’t think so, but he looked forward to it anyway.

*******

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!


End file.
